The Fateful Decision of RAB
by tacobowler
Summary: This is the story of the last days of Regulus Arcturus Black and his decision to rebell.  Rated T for implied violence, esspecially in chapter 3.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 1

Tom Marvolo Riddle paced in front of the throne which he had set up in the small kitchen of a fairly new recruit: Regulus Black. Riddle checked on a glowing green potion in final stages where the stove once had sat. Soon, a short, overweight man entered the room and bowed low to Riddle.

"My lord," he said. "Lucius Malfoy, as requested."

"Thank you Wormtail," Riddle said. "You are excused."

Wormtail left the room and the tall, blonde Malfoy stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"What can I do for my lord?" Lucius asked.

"Have a seat, my friend," Riddle said. Lucius had a seat at the kitchen table. Riddle produced a small black book and placed it in front of him. Lucius studied the book.

"Thank you, my lord," Lucius said.

"I am entrusting my diary to you, my friend," Riddle said. "I will say more later. You will keep it safe and secret even from your wife and new born son."

"Yes, my lord," Lucius said, cradling the diary.

"It has the power to open the Chamber of Secrets. When I feel it is necessary to open the Chamber, I will call on you. I will expect you to be able to produce the book. Am I clear, my friend?"

"Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord," Lucius said.

"Very well, you are excused," Riddle said. Lucius immediately got up and was out the door in a matter of seconds. As he left, a confident, black haired man stepped into the room. He bowed to the Dark Lord before walking to the refrigerator and grabbing an apple.

"Is my family's house serving you well, my lord?" Regulus Black said, eating the apple.

"It is adequate, my friend," Riddle replied, fingering his wand. Regulus seemed unfazed by it. "I wonder. Might I have use of your house elf?"

"Of course my lord," Regulus said. "KREACHER!" A young house elf appeared at Regulus' feet. He eagerly bowed low, his nose scratching the floor. "Kreacher, my lord has need of you. You are to obey him as if he is me. Then return home. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my master," Kreacher said.

"Very well," Riddle said, tapping the potion, causing the whole cauldron to disappear, sending it to his destination. Riddle grabbed the elf and apparated.

* * *

><p>Riddle appeared in a shallow cave entrance, the ocean rolling into the mouth of the cave at low tide.<p>

"Follow," Riddle said. Kreacher did as ordered. The two walked up to a portion of the wall and stopped. Riddle pulled a wand and swiped toward the elf, gashing his nose. Blood seeped from the wound, but the elf did not flinch. Riddle covered his hand in the elf's blood and wiped it on the wall. Immediately, a large white arch appeared and then crumbled revealing a large, black space. Riddle walked into the room, the elf followed trying to heal its wound.

Riddle walked confidently up to the edge of a large lake and waved his hand out over the water. Suddenly he clasped on the air and a chain appeared in the air, glowing green and disappearing under the water. Riddle began to pull and within minutes a small boat appeared glowing with the same strange light. Riddle stepped in the boat and motioned for the elf to follow.

The boat carried the pair across the lake toward an island where the glowing potion sat. Once the boat landed, Riddle got off and walked toward a small podium in the middle of the island. He used his wand to pick up a bit of potion and fill the basin on the podium. He then motioned for the elf to approach and conjured a cup.

"You will drink," he said, filling the cup. He fed the potion to the elf. The elf reacted immediately, writhing and moaning on the ground. Each time Riddle filled the cup, the elf begged for mercy. Each time Riddle fed more potion. Screams echoed off the walls of the room, meeting only the smiling reaction of Riddle as he enjoyed the screams more and more.

"Regulus is not coming to save you," Riddle said as he scooped up the final potion and fed it to the protesting elf. "No one can save you from me."

Once the cup was empty, the elf lay motionless. Riddle waited for several minutes for the elf to move, but he didn't. Riddle smiled, believing the basin to be enough. He placed a spell on the basin to refill from the cauldron whenever empty and then magically hid the cauldron. Finally, he took out a small locket, with a large crest on the front, from his pocket and placed it in the basin. He waited, with all his focus on the basin, until the basin refilled and then stepped onto the boat and left the cave, leaving the elf to die.

He never noticed the elf start to move, never noticed as he opened his eyes to see the locket, never heard the tiny whimper of "Master," that escaped as the elf followed orders and returned home.

A/N: This scene adapted largely from _Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince_ pages 555-576.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 2

Michael Watson sat behind his central office desk in London. He enjoyed it here, with the peace and quiet. He had grabbed a book entitled "Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2" and was quietly flipping through the pages, practicing random spells as he saw fit. He had not received any formal training in magic during his childhood. His parents had believed that magic belonged in pure-blood families only and; therefore, none of his family had been to Hogwarts in generations. However, they were also too poor to send children to Durmstrang because they refused to work anyplace which allowed Mudblods to use their services; which was everywhere. The pure-blood mania made him sick.

He had left the family after absorbing all the information he could. Being out of the loop for almost a thousand years has advantages and disadvantages. It means that you miss out on all of the magical advances that happen. He'd been playing catchup for twenty years now. But it also means that you know things that have long been forgotten. And dark magic is what lasts the longest in families like his. That knowledge had saved his life in several duels during the hight of the Cold War.

He had received a job as an agent for the Ministry in 1968. During those years, even the magical world had been pulled into the struggle between East and West. Therefore, the Ministry of Magic in Britian had formed a secret group of wisards, which was something he fit into naturally. It had paid the rent while he caught up on 1000 years of wizarding advancement. The search had given him quite the extensive library of spells, though admittably they were mostly combative and dark ones.

A knock came on the front door.

"Come in," Watson said. The door opened to a young man about twenty stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The man stood tall and confident with a full head of black hair. He was slender in build, but buff none the less. He was wearing dark green robes with long sleeves. The man turned and looked at Watson expectantly.

"And what is your name?" Watson said without getting up.

"Regulus Black," the man said.

"You were sent to spy on me?" Watson asked calmly, motioning for Regulus to sit in front of the desk.

Regulus smiled. "You don't take anything for granted, do you?"

"It is how I have lived as long as I have," Watson said.

"You'd fit in well in the ranks," Regulus said, sitting.

"You didn't answer my question," Watson said.

Regulus smiled again. "True, I did not."

"So?" Watson asked.

"Yes, I was assigned to tail you," Regulus said. "The Dark Lord doesn't trust you."

"So, if I call him?" Watson prodded, putting his chin in his hands.

"He will come, wands blazing, ready to kill," Regulus said.

Watson chuckled. "Unless you tell him otherwise." Regulus nodded in agreement. "I presume you have a reason to blow your cover?" Watson said.

Regulus opened his mouth and then closed it again. He swallowed and spoke, "Do you trust the Dark Lord?" he asked.

"No," Watson said.

"Trusting of me quickly," Regulus said.

"I know I can kill you," Watson said. "And Riddle."

Regulus cringed. "That is a name I do not often hear," he said.

"Again, why blow your cover?" Watson said.

"I need information," Regulus said. "I...I think may be...I think there's more I need to know."

"And you have come to me why?" Watson asked.

Regulus motioned behind Watson. "I have been assigned to investigate you," he said. "And your information library is extensive."

"I do not have much on your kind of magic in here," Watson said.

"You might have more than you think," Regulus said. "Your library is full of dark magic."

"What kind of dark magic might you be interested in?" Watson asked, slowly getting up and walking toward the bookshelves.

"I believe that the Dark Lord knew who you were the moment you stepped foot in his tent," Regulus said.

"Then why assign you to investigate?" Watson asked, not taking his eyes off the books. "Why the charade?"

Regulus breathed deeply before answering. "I believe he is looking for a way to become immortal before he fights you. Just in case."

Watson turned suddenly. "He is immortal," Watson said. "However, he is not unkillable. My family knows magic which has been forgotton for millennia."

"I do not believe he has stolen the Philosopher's stone yet," Regulus said. "But even if he has, the Dark Lord likes to cover his bases. Claiming more than one type of immortality sounds a lot like him."

"So you're looking for something that would give immortality through dark magic?" Watson asked.

"Yes," Regulus replied.

"I might have what you need," Watson said, pulling a book from the shelf. He set it on the desk. Regulus reached for it, but Watson pulled it back. "Information costs," he said. "What do I get?"

"If the information is good?" Regulus said. "I'll tell the Dark Lord to trust you."

"And when he finds out he can't?" Watson asked.

"I'll probably already be dead," Regulus said.

Watson pondered him, deciding whether to trust him or kill him. Finally he shoved the book toward Regulus. "You'd make a good agent for the ministry," he said. "Page 666 should have what you need. Read under the heading 'horcrux.'"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 3

Regulus Arcturus Black sat at the writing desk in his bedroom staring off into space. So much had happened in the last few weeks. It hadn't really been that long since the Dark Lord had last used his house as a home. The night Regulus had decided to rebel.

Even before that night, Regulus had begun to have suspicions about the Dark Lord. Everyone knew he was evil; the Slytherin house was full of children boasting about the crimes their parents had committed in the name of the Dark Lord. Students were lining up every year to break some school rule and prove to him that they were up to the task of being a Death Eater. The little social club was definitely alive and well in the school. Even Regulus had looked up to the blonde giant a few years ahead of him, trying to be exactly like Lucius. Regulus laughed. Look at the coward now, trying desperately to kiss up to the Dark Lord lest the master get angry. Well, Regulus was different.

He wasn't sure why he was so naive back at school; how he could have missed the idea that being a Death Eater wasn't about breaking some trophies in the trophy room. He seemed to expect that he would be breaking into banks and stealing things for the rest of his life. The thought had excited him. But his first mission was to kill, as was every Death Eaters.

It's not that Regulus was against killing, it was almost a requirement of Slytherin House to be in favor of it. But Regulus was against killing innocents. And Regulus was sent to kill a muggle just because they lived too close to a wizard. He didn't like it, but by then he was in too deep. By then, to say no was to sign your death warrant.

Regulus reached for a piece of parchment on which he had written a note to the Dark Lord. No, to Voldemort. Regulus was going to die, might as well say the name. Yes, he was rebelling against Voldemort; but he wasn't going down alone. Voldemort had trained him to be a killer, and that's what he was going to do if he could.

His plan was hatched when Michael Watson had lent him the book on Horcruxes. It certainly fit for how Voldemort could be immortal as he boasted and seem to be so inhuman. Regulus had actually thought the crazy thought that Voldemort may have made more than one Horcrux, but he had brushed the thought aside quickly. No one was stupid enough to try that. But Regulus did know where the horcrux was; and that information was the last straw.

He remembered the night well. Voldemort had taken his elf for a mission a few hours earlier. The elf returned to Regulus after Voldemort was done with him, as ordered, but he was incredibly weak and screaming for water. After some time, Regulus got Kreacher a little better and laid him down to rest. And then Kreacher began to recount the story: a cave with many and powerful magical defenses, where Voldemort had cut Kreacher to breach them, a vast lake with something white and dead disturbing the deep, a small island with the glowing potion in a basin, the locket which Voldemort had placed inside the basin after making Kreacher drink the vile concoction, the part where Voldemort left the elf to die on the island.

And so the plan was born, leading to now when Regulus grabbed a locket he had recently purchased and slipped the note inside. He took several deep breaths and called his elf, the elf appearing at his side immediately.

"Kreacher, take me to the island where Voldemort left you to die," he said. Kreacher looked at the locket in his hand and began to shake his head. Regulus thought about how horrible the event had to have been to be powerful enough to fight the ancient elf magic, but Regulus repeated himself and Kreacher was left with no choice but to grab his master's hand and apparate.

* * *

><p>Regulus' eyes adjusted to the strange lighting after a few moments. He was standing on a small island in the middle of a sea of water large enough that he couldn't see the edge. The space was clearly in a cavern of some kind because it was pitch black except for a blinding, green light coming from a small basin on a platform in the middle of the island. Regulus walked up to the platform, aware of the elf cowering in fear behind him. He could see the potion in the basin and attempted to vanish it. It didn't work, not that he had thought it would, but it was worth a try.<p>

"Kreacher," Regulus said softly. "You will make me drink this potion, all of it, and then you will take this locket and switch it with the one inside the basin. Then you will take that locket and destroy it. Do you understand me?"

"Master?" Kreacher said.

"Kreacher, yes or no?"

"Yes," Kreacher said.

"Good. Now, I may tell you to stop feeding me the potion after you have begun. Do not follow this request, is that understood?"

"Yes, master."

"Good. One final order. You are to leave me after you switch the lockets," Regulus said.

"But master, you'll die," Kreacher said.

"I know," Regulus said. "But it will be far better to die here than to live for what Voldemort would do to me. Promise me you won't try to save me. Destroy the locket; that is how you honor me."

"Yes, master," Kreacher said through tears.

Regulus nodded and handed his locket to Kreacher. Then he conjured a large cup and told Kreacher to begin. Kreacher filled the cup with the potion and began to feed it to Regulus.

The world no longer existed. His vision blacked out. Pain was all he knew, pain through every inch of his body. Pain even worse than the Curciatus Curse his mother used to use on him. He wanted nothing but for the pain to end. He could hear himself crying out for it to stop.

His chin was lowered and another cup was pored in. The pain stopped. He was standing in a field with his arms and legs bound. A man stood in front of him facing away from him. In front of the man was a woman that Regulus recognized immediately: His mother. He tried to cry out to her, but his voice wouldn't come. She looked longingly at him like she was expecting for him to do something. He squirmed, but he couldn't move. Suddenly the man turned around and Regulus recognized the face of his master. "Surely you knew this would happen," Voldemort said. Then he turned around with a grin and shouted "_Avada Kedavra!"_

Even before he saw his mother hit the ground, he felt his chin being tugged open again. The pain was returning, but it was almost as if he was nummed. His vision had been transported to a boiling hot room. Fire rolled down the sides like Hell itself. Voldemort again stood between him and a victim; except this time it was his cousin and role-model Bellitrix Lestrange. She had been tied to a large metal board which Voldemort had at wand point. He turned back to Regulus, who tried but couldn't move. "Just say the word and I'll stop. Say you'll die now and leave my sanctuary alone." Regulus tried to speak, tried to save his only real family, but he couldn't do it. Voldemort had betrayed him. He had to go through with it. "Pity," Voldemort said as he moved his wand and the metal slab slammed, body first, into the fire.

Regulus' chin moved again and he knew what was coming. The pain returned in full force, but he was more worried about who would die next. He knew there wasn't much more potion; therefore, this would be the person that would mean the most. This would be the one who would convince Regulus to turn back. He closed his eyes. Finally he couldn't stand it any longer.

He was standing in a massive, stone indoor arena, facing the floor. In the middle of the floor was a stone dais with a long, flowing black curtain hanging and gently swaying though there was no wind. Again, Voldemort stood facing away from him, but Regulus was looking out over the victim. Regulus forced himself to look down. The site surprised him more than anything else that day. He was staring at the smiling face of his brother. Before Voldemort could say anything or do anything, Sirius smiled at his brother and said "I chose to fight. Stay strong and finish. I promise you will not have died in vain brother." Then he turned and ran into the center of the stone dais and vanished amid Voldemort's angry cries.

The vision was broken as Kreacher approached with the final cupful. Regulus allowed the potion to be poured down his throat, but felt no pain, no visions, and no loss almost as if something was protecting him from the potion's effects. Once it was finished he ordered Kreacher to switch the lockets and leave. The elf did as ordered.

Regulus knew what would happen now, but he didn't have much choice. He would die now, quickly and easily, or he would die later in anguish at the hands of Voldemort. He chose to die now. He stood up and dived into the water. Before he had descended ten feet, hands grabbed him and began to tug and pull at every inch of his being, dragging him further and further into the lake. He only had time to look longingly back up at the faint light above him and think, "_You promised brother, I'll hold you to it."_ Then the world went black for the last time.


End file.
